Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (38 page)

              She frowned at him.  “I’m sorry, sir.  Ganner and Saiorse deals with large business accounts.  We can’t open one for an… individual such as yourself with such… modest means.”

              He raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?  You can’t open an account for me even though I’m coming in here with cash and hard currency, just because I’m not wearing a three thousand credit suit?  Even though I’m the one who owns the bulk freighter that just arrived in system?”

              “I’m sure there are other places that would be happy to assist you with your little business, sir.”  The receptionist’s voice was disdainful now.

              He stood there, fuming for a moment.  Saiphirelle snickered next to him, but didn’t speak.  He started to turn to leave, just about fed up with the woman’s attitude, but then changed his mind.  Eamonn walked to the reception desk.  “Get me a representative,
now
,” he said, putting every ounce of command presence he possessed into that order.

              “Sir, I think it is time that you and your… compatriot… left this compartment,” she replied, her hand sliding under the desk.

              Grabbing the knapsack, he upended it on the desk.  The woman’s eyes bulged nearly out of her head at seeing the hundreds of thousands worth of credit chits that were forming into a respectable pile.  “This is over three hundred thousand credits,” Eamonn declared, his eyes locked on her face, but his hand gestured to the pile.  Then, only after ten or so seconds he began to sweep the pile back into his knapsack.  “But, since my business is too paltry and ‘little’, I believe is the word you used, I’ll be taking my money elsewhere.”

              The receptionist visibly gulped, turning pale.  “Forgive me, sir.  My words were ill-considered.  Please forgive me, sir.”  She pressed a control on the top of the desk, but Eamonn did not stop his collection of the credit chits.  Her gaze turned to panic.  “Please, sir, don’t leave.  I have summoned one of our account executives, she would be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need.”  Her pleading look was turning desperate.

              Once the money was back in his knapsack, he stood and fumed for another long moment.  But then he relented.  He nodded.  “Let me speak with this executive,” he said, his voice harsh.  He eyed her angrily.  “If I decide your services are what I need, I will consider opening an account here.”

              At that moment, a very well-dressed human woman, in a burnt umber and gold business suit carrying a datapad bustled into the reception area.  She was in her mid-fifties, with streaks of gray in her dark hair and more than a few wrinkles in her dusky skin, which was so dark as to be almost black.  She smiled broadly as she saw Eamonn and Saiphirelle.

              “Good sir, I am Hycinth Madras, senior account executive at this branch of Ganner and Saiorse.”  Hustling straight up to the Captain she extended her hand.  Eamonn slipped the knapsack over his shoulder again and took her hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it.  “I understand you wish to open an account with us and I couldn’t be more pleased.  But before we go any further, please allow me to extend my most sincere apologies for any misunderstandings that might have occurred.  I assure you, sir, that this one,” she glared at the receptionist, who got a look on her face plainly stating it would be an excellent time for a hull breach, “will be severely disciplined.”

              There was a slight yip from behind Eamonn, who knew that the lupusan was having difficulty holding in her laughter.  She covered it up by pretending to cough.  The Captain indeed found himself amused, but held on to his initial anger.  “I should hope so, Ms. Hycinth.  But I would be willing to put this unpleasant incident behind us.”

              “Indeed, yes, sir,” Ms. Madras replied, her face a calm mask.  “If you’ll step this way please?  Your bodyguard may of course accompany us.”

              Eamonn nodded.  “Good, because she doesn’t leave the compartment I’m in.”

              The lupusan flicked her ears in surprise.  Normally the Captain detested having a security detail.  Perhaps the knowledge that three hundred thousand credits was in the bag touching his hip had changed his disposition.  Saiphirelle grunted, not really caring why her charge was suddenly much more willing to make her job easier.

              It took little more than an hour for the Captain to set up the accounts he wanted, one for himself and the ship’s operating funds, and one for the departing crews to use.  They took a DNA sample and a retinal and voice scan, and he was provided with the account number and routing codes.  He selected his personal access codes and they deposited his funds.  He thumbed the activation on the control pad and he was done.  A few minutes later, after another handshake and apology from Executive Madras, the two were back out into the corridors of the station and on their way back to where they had parked the shuttle.

              Upon arrival back at the hangar, he addressed the crewmembers who were departing.  He brought up his datapad and typed in several commands, activating a program he’d worked out earlier.  “If you look at your datapads, you will see transaction codes for the back pay that each of you is owed.  If you were to open an account anywhere on the station, or simply go to Ganner and Saiorse, you can have the funds transferred or make a withdrawal.  The money is available now.”

              There was a murmur among the assembled seventeen, and more than a few checked their datapads to verify what the Captain was saying.  Taja, however, was leaning against the side of the shuttle, not looking at anyone.  She didn’t check her datapad, in fact she didn’t seem all that interested in anything that was going on.  Frederick Vosteros was standing nearby, a look of utter shock on his face.  His own payment voucher from Vincent Eamonn had been sizeable, over twenty thousand credits.  The Captain blamed himself for the loss of Vosteros’ ship and wanted to show his appreciation for all his help during the occupation of the
Grania Estelle
.  Attached was a letter, from one Captain to another, detailing his thoughts on the matter.

              “I want to thank you all again for sailing with me.  And I would like to say once again, that should any of you decide that you want to do so again, all you need to do is show up.”  He nodded once and then walked straight to the shuttle and stepped inside, Saiphirelle following along behind him.  She nodded to a few of those departing and then entered.  The lupusan turned and looked back at the people that had started to leave the hangar, only one or two who looked back, though no one made eye contact with the security officer.  They looked at the shuttle, then turned and walked out of the hangar.

              “Let’s go!” the Captain growled from the cockpit of the small ship. 

              Saiphirelle flicked her ears, nodded, though he couldn’t have seen, then closed and dogged the hatch.  “Sealed up, Captain,” she called and headed for the cockpit.

              “I see it,” he replied as she slipped into the copilot’s seat.  “Let’s get back to the ship.”

              “Copy that, Skipper.  You’re flying.”

              A few seconds later and they were off the deck and out of the hangar, back into vacuum.  The lupusan leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.  “I noticed that Taja looked rather pissed when she was standing by the shuttle, Captain.”  He grunted.  “Maybe she wanted you to say something to her.”

              He grimaced, but didn’t take his eyes off his displays.  “Oh, I think Taja had her fill of me talking to her.”

              “Oh, I don’t know, Captain,” she said, smiling a little, opening her eyes and glancing over to him surreptitiously.  “I think she still cares.”

              “I don’t remember asking for your help with this,” he replied.

              “Just reporting what I see, Skipper,” Saiphirelle said. 

              He glanced over at her for just an instant, then sighed and looked back to his displays.  “Yeah, I saw it too.  But things have been said that can’t be unsaid.  It doesn’t matter anymore.”

              Now she sat up a bit straighter.  “What did you say, Captain?”

              Now he glared at her for a moment.  “I don’t recall you being my confessor.  Nor do I remember it being your business.”

              “I’m a member of the crew, Captain,” Saiphirelle replied.  “And we’re a pretty tight group.  You know that.”

              “Yeah,” he said.  The bulk of the ship was growing bigger in the forward viewport.  “Biggest bunch of gossips I’ve ever seen.”

              She barked a little yip of a laugh.  “Yes, Captain, they are.”

              Eamonn couldn’t help chuckling in return.  “But now we’re a smaller group.  A lesser group.”

              Her ears drooped a little.  “Yeah.  We are.”

              They spent the rest of the trip back to the
Grania Estelle
in silence, until it was time to call in for landing clearance.

Chapter 13

              “So, we have a number of issues, all of which need to be worked out before we can go any further,” the Captain said to the people in the wardroom.  It was a small meeting, again, only the Captain, Quesh, Turan and Stella.

              “Right now, Captain, I think the biggest problem is personnel,” Stella spoke up.  “Specifically, any kind of trained engineers.”

              “I’ll drink to that, Captain,” Quesh agreed.  “We need to post hirings in their common area, or whatever they have in that station.  Hell, we managed to find people at Instow, and that was a place full of fishermen.”

              “All right.  I’ll get hiring notices posted later today.  I’ll send Corajen and an assistant to man a table,” the Captain replied, nodding.  “We need Engineering and Cargo people, primarily.  A few more for Deck division.”

              “We need a total of eighty-nine, sir, to bring us up to a full crew complement of one hundred thirty-two.  That would be enough to cover all sections and all watch rotations,” Stella said, a virtual datapad in her hand, as though she was checking items off the list.  A very human gesture.

              “All right.  We’ll start bringing them in.  How do we stand now?”

              “Repairs are going to take months, Captain,” the Chief answered.  “But I’ve got Xar and Tamara as well as a host of bots doing full surveys of the hull, in and out.  I’ve got a preliminary repair schedule, but obviously as we take on crew and my teams fill out, that will be revised.”  The Captain nodded.  “But even as we bring in more people and get them up to speed, we’re looking at a good seven to eight months of work.”

              Eamonn sighed.  “I suspected as much.  In the meantime, we’re going to need to keep power levels up.  We’re going to have to deploy our collector in the nearest Jovian to keep our fuel topped up.”

              “Yes, sir, that’s easily doable,” Quesh replied.  “Just need someone to take it out there and then head back out every few days to pick up the fuel.”

              “Captain?” Stella asked.  “I’m not sure that we can just take the fuel.  I’ll have to get more information, but I’m pretty sure the sensors on the station are powerful enough to see as far as the closest of the gas giants.  You might have to set up some sort of deal with the locals on the station in order to get the fuel.”

              Eamonn tilted his head from side to side, considering what she’d just said.  “I think that might actually work out for us.  Let me work on that.  Maybe we can get a bit of a business going.  Quesh, I need you to divert Samair from what she’s doing to get the parts for another collector built.”

              The engineer blinked, but then he shrugged.  “Sure thing, Captain.  I’ll tell her as soon as we’re done here.”  He made a note on his datapad.  “Double up on our fuel?”

              “So that I can have more to sell to the locals,” Eamonn explained with a smile.  “They
loved
the batch that we brought in this round.  And as long as we’re the only source in town for helium 3, I’d like to collect up as much as possible and sell before they get their own ships and collectors out there.”

              “What are they running their reactors on now?” Stella asked, curious.

              “Hydrogen,” Eamonn smirked.  Quesh frowned.  “And not counting the amounts I just sold them, they have one of their six reactors running on deuterium.  It’s giving them an extra boost on their power, but only slightly.  I imagine the reactor on this ship has a greater output than half of those ones put together.”

              “I imagine it would, Captain,” the Parkani agreed.  “Especially now that we’ve gotten the heart of this old girl fixed up.”  Turan chuckled.  Quesh winked at him.

              “Doctor, how are your people doing?”

              The Guura nodded slowly.  “Things are all right.  I could probably use another sick berth attendant, but otherwise things are all right in the Medical division.  I could use some new stocks of drugs, antibiotics, things like that.  I’m sure I can find some on the station, perhaps get more down on the planet.”

              The Captain nodded.  “I’ll make sure to look into that.  Especially if we’re going to be hiring on new crew, I want every new person coming on to get a full medical workup.  Stella, talk with people on the station.  I want you to find out what in the way of medical supplies are available from there.”

              “Yes, Captain.”  The AI had a very brief look of concern on her face, but it passed quickly.  “I’m on it.”  Her image flickered once and then steadied out.  The others glanced at her, but she just looked back and smiled.

              “All right,” Vincent Eamonn said, looking at the collected officers.  “Anything else we need to address right now?”

              “Uh, actually, Captain, there is one more thing,” Quesh said, raising one of his hands.  He actually looked abashed.

              Eamonn eyed him.  “And what’s that, Quesh?”

              “When you go out to find us some new crewmembers,” he said, looking at the others in the room, “Can you find us someone who can serve up some decent grub?”

              The Captain pounded his hand on the table and howled with laughter.

              The Union Hall, as it was called on the Station, was a good-sized compartment located in the central section of Hub 1.  It had four consoles lined up down each of the walls of the compartment, with long tables going down the center.  A desk was just inside the door where a bored-looking zheen sat, his head resting on one hand, his antennae slowly rising and then slowly drooping every few seconds.  When Vincent Eamonn entered the compartment with Saiphirelle in tow, the zheen didn’t move from his position.  In fact, if it was possible, he managed to look less interested at their arrival.  Eamonn looked around the compartment and snorted.  Aside from the three of them, the compartment was empty.

              The Captain stepped up to the desk, and the zheen made a blat and chittered.  “How can I assist you, ssir?”

              “I’m looking to hire crew for my ship,” Eamonn replied, smiling. 

              The zheen pointed with his free hand to one of the terminals.  “You can post your crew requirements on the station net, any of the consoles can accept your data, either by streaming it from your ship, uploading from that datapad I see in your coat pocket, or else you can type in the information manually.”  That entire speech was delivered in a monotone drone, with a slight buzz from the alien’s mouthparts.

              Eamonn stared at the zheen for a moment, but he didn’t react.  “If you’re trying to bully me into getting up, you can forget it, sir.  I’m required to fill this seat and direct you to the consoles.  There’s nothing in my job description that says I need to be any more helpful than that.”

              “And they wonder why the station and the warship are in the condition they are,” Saiphirelle commented. 

              The zheen shrugged.  “Hey, I work in the Union Hall, not the engineering or maintenance departments.  And I’m off shift in…”  He sat up, checking the chrono on his own console.   “Forty-six more minutes.”

              Eamonn plastered on a fake smile.  “I see.  Thank you very much, Mister…”

              The zheen’s antennae twitched in amusement.  “Stuck here for forty-six more minutes.  Sir.”

              He pursed his lips and turned away, Saiphirelle following just behind.  But then she slowly turned back to the zheen, a low rumble sounding in her throat.  The zheen stiffened in fear, but he didn’t get up from the desk, he didn’t say anything additional.

              “Leave him alone,” Eamonn said, his voice casual as he sat himself down at one of the consoles and fired it up.  “He gave me the information I need.”

              “Oh, you’re no fun, Captain,” the lupusan said, sitting herself down languorously on one of the chairs at the long table, sideways to accommodate her tail.  She made sure that she was always facing the now rigidly attentive Union Hall attendant.  He didn’t need to be looking straight at her, his compound eyes were more than capable of allowing him to see her, even if he was turned partially away.

              Eamonn chuckled and concentrated on the display, which was the reason they were here in the Union Hall.  It only took a moment to link his datapad to the station net, and thanks to the virus protection protocols Tamara had uploaded into all the ship’s computers, including every datapad, tablet and communicator, the various programs that tried to infect his gear were blocked.  Sadly, he didn’t have the programs necessary to cleanse the station’s computers…

              “Damn,” he said, leaning back in the chair, a smile forming. 
Get Moxie to put her magic into a portable, we could sell it to the station, the locals on the planet, hell, anyone.  Make a nice batch of credits on that.
  Switching programs on his datapad, he made a note for later.

              Going back to the business at hand, he uploaded the crew requirements needed.  For now, he was ignoring the cargo division, leaving them for when the ship was fixed up and ready to roll.  He’d be damned if he was going to start paying people just to sit around.  There would be plenty of time to bring in cargo handlers and a new cargo specialist once they had a ship to handle cargo in.

              “All set, sir?” Saiphirelle asked, looking over after a few minutes, as Eamonn was putting his datapad back in his pocket.  She looked back over to the zheen, grinned and growled, putting the full load of subsonics into it.  The poor insectoid was absolutely quivering with fear, a light buzzing noise emitting from somewhere in his throat.

              Eamonn gave Saiphirelle a look as they were departing.  “Knock it off, Sai,” he told her.  He nodded to the clerk.  “Thanks for your help, son.”  And he gave the zheen a wink before walking out of the Union Hall.

              Saiphirelle followed him out, barking and snapping her jaws in the zheen’s direction, forcing him to leap out of his seat to get clear.  She chuckled to herself as they entered the main concourse and started back for the ship.

              “Captain!” Stella called to the man as he exited from the shuttle.  Her image was on the access panel to the side of the hatch leading back into the ship from the boat bay.  “You will never believe what Tamara found!”

              Eamonn chuckled.  “No, Stella, I doubt I will believe what she found.”  He stopped in front of the panel.  “Well?”

              “One of the big rocks we brought in had a huge vein of gadolinium in it!” she crowed.  “We’re talking almost forty kilos of the stuff.”

              Vincent blinked in surprise, stunned into silence.  He rallied quickly.  “That’s a hell of a find.”

              Stella’s grin was so bright she was literally glowing.  “Yes, Captain, it is.”

              “Very good.”  And now he was smiling.  Oh, this situation in Seylonique might just work out after all.  “Where is M… Tamara?”

              Stella frowned slightly at his correction, of his not using his usual nickname for her.  “She’s in the cargo bay, working with three of the cargo people carving up the rocks.”

              “Good.”  He headed out of the boat bay.

              As he stepped just inside the cargo bay, he could see the four of them cutting apart one of the big rocks.  Their goggled faces were illuminated by the plasma torches and they were dumping the pieces into a bin which would then be hauled via hover pallet to the replicators.  It looked as though they’d made a fair size dent in this one, in fact the rock had several chunks cut out of it, as though it had been chewed on like mice attacking a block of cheese.  The Captain flipped open his communicator and sent an alert to Tamara, but then cursed himself for forgetting that she couldn’t receive messages directly anymore to her implants. 

              To his surprise, she stopped what she was cutting, stepped back from the rock and shut off the torch.  Flipping up the front of her goggles with one hand, she reached into the hip pocket of her coverall trousers with the other and pulled out her own communicator.  Flipping it open with her thumb, she read the screen and then looked around.  Catching sight of Eamonn in the doorway to the cargo bay, Tamara’s face settled into a calm mask.

              Vincent sighed.  It was inevitable that she would still be angry, stars alone knew how much he still hated himself for the actions he’d taken since Ulla-tran.  But she wasn’t as hostile as she’d been.  She hadn’t taken her leave of the ship when the others had.  Perhaps she was trying to work things out in her own head, trying to move past it all.  He snorted.  He wasn’t sure
he
would ever really get past all the emotional turmoil and fallout from recent events and he hadn’t suffered nearly as much as she had.

              Tamara set the cutter down and walked over, pulling off her heavy gloves.  “What can I do for you, Captain?”

              He cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake away difficult thoughts.  With the exception of the metal disk attached to her throat, Tamara Samair seemed to have physically recovered from her grueling ordeal quite nicely.  Vincent was sure that there were more than a few emotional wounds that hadn’t even scabbed over, much less healed.  They might not ever heal, but she was working through it.  Hopefully, she was talking to someone about it, though he knew with as much certainty as he possessed that she would never speak to
him
about any of it.